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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24417094">That Little Impossible Cottage</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevynlira/pseuds/Sevynlira'>Sevynlira</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Cock Rings, Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Consent, Kissing, M/M, Masterbation, Post-Canon, Sex Toys, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), apologies are sexy, wild abuse of italics and bold text</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:14:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24417094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevynlira/pseuds/Sevynlira</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving in together means moving things forward, right? Well, things aren't that simple when you have been cast out before!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>169</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Impossible Little Store</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley can barely scowl anymore. Working up the sheer energy to defeat his ever present delighted grin is too much even for his considerable occult force. An angel waits for him all warm and bright in their home. That little cottage with its miraculous nooks and crannies holds all those precious books and more importantly they somehow hold several thousand years of fulfilled longing. Like it's nothing. Like the walls can be just standing quiet and dim in the feeble winter light. They should be vibrating with potential. They should quake and shame the sun. The seat of Crowley's wicked heart should be some glittering towering force. He ought to live in a chilly penthouse that looms over a metropolis with greedy intent. The improbability of his situation can feel surreal sometimes. Surely, somebody is going to notice and ban the likes of him from such domesticity.</p><p>He keeps bolting when that potential wanders into his bones. He flees the warm bright little home when the notion hits him too many times in a day. He is here. Right over there across the room. <em><strong>I can lift my eyes just an inch and there he will be. Again and again.</strong></em> The house sheds all that amazement off its angled roof with a nonchalance he sincerely wishes he had. It's quite embarrassing to be more ancient than the foundations and to shake within from the sheer force of it. So he jitters and slithers and vibrates until it's just too much and stutters some excuse and races for the chilly English countryside to bleed off some of the sheer intensity. Only to immediately begin longing to return. It's a vicious cycle.</p><p>This time his wandering has pushed him to the outskirts of town. When he finally notices his surroundings, he is facing the second most improbable building in the world. It would have to be the most stubborn for sure. Tenacity and sheer enthusiasm for life is what is holding this little shop together. It's a sex shop. In the age of internet shopping. In the killing fields of English reticence and propriety and small townedness. It's a bloody sex shop. Here. Of all unlikely places. He immediately adores it. The tacky shabby plain audacity of this delicious human relic is something special. How amazing! That bright wonder pushes him right through the paper shrouded glass door.</p><p>In the age old language of retail, the employee perched at the glass counter takes a moment from their phone to decide that Crowley is quite familiar with what is what. The demon takes note of the side shaved hair and decides once more that the style still hasn't reached his current apparent age. Soon though. It is matriculating upward and he does love to stay current.</p><p>It is after he has snatched a new bottle of lube and before he reaches the shelf of vibrators that a new idea strikes. How hilarious would Aziraphale's blush be if he found some sex toys lying about? That scandalized but pleased look the angel sometimes wears when there are other fleshly delights comes to mind. Wouldn't that be excellent? Quickly he finds a cheap plastic bullet vibe and a jelly cockring in a candy colored wrapper. He laughs quietly to himself as he snatches a dusty box with a ludicrously orange butt plug. It looks like a goddamn traffic cone or some of that Halloween candy he had cursed the world with. He should leave it on the dining room table! Aziraphale is going to have a fit!</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Little Impossible Purchase</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The angel did happen upon his raunchy purchases the very next day. Crowley had been nonchalantly lounging while keeping a weather eye out for that moment. First there was a soft gasp and then Aziraphale's eyes shot straight toward the lounging demon with the aggrieved sigh of a patient and annoyed adult with a particularly rambunctious charge. "Crowley, why are your- things- all over?" </p>
<p>Donning the most innocent of all innocent faces, Crowley raises his brows as if the question is a complete surprise. His face feels like it is going to crack from the pressure of keeping it neutral. "Just moving in, Angel." Thank fuck his dark tinted glasses are still firmly in place. He waits for it. </p>
<p>And there it is. The tiniest lift in the corners of Aziraphale's eyes and mouth. Perfect. The amusement on the angel's face ignites a warm clench in Crowley's chest. "You wicked deceiver. You just purchased these to get a rise out of me."</p>
<p>Crowley finally allows his own sardonic smile to slip free and he leans forward to take the hideous toy. "Wicked deceiver. That's me alright. What gave it away?"</p>
<p>Aziraphale doesn't hesitate or even stop to ponder the question. He simply settles into the soft cushioned chair beside his steaming tea service and begins the motions of making himself a cup. "Well, if knowing you since Eden isn't enough, I think anyone even a little bit acquainted knows that nothing touches your skin that isn't expensive or lovely." The angel nods to himself as he considers his words "Or both." He amends while still wearing that amused and thoughtful expression.</p>
<p>The room falls quiet as the scent of hot tea rises and Crowley closes his eyes to replay that perfect reaction and how the blue eyed approving shine had lit the room and his heart. It is so engrossing that he doesn't see the unsettling weight and unhappiness that slides across the angel's features. It is whisked away after only a moment, but for a long heartbreaking second, the pain in the angel's eyes could have rivaled the joy that had graced it only moments before. All was not well.</p>
<p>It takes Crowley three days to notice. Something is off. The changes are small. Aziraphale doesn't feel as carefree or light. There is a guarded look around his eyes and he retreats even further into his books. It takes another entire day for the demon to work up the temerity to mention it. "Angel, everything ok?" He asks while squirming with discomfort at the obvious soft distress and concern that has laced his voice. It's hard to be a big scary demon and be worried about your best friend. </p>
<p>"Oh! Of course, everything is fine." Aziraphale stops right there and then shakes his head as if clearing some thought free. "Actually, no. It's not all right. I have to start talking or it really is going to keep getting worse." The angel sets aside his book and swivels his chair to face the sofa where Crowley sprawls. "Allright. We might need some fortification for this." He leverages himself up and out of the room to grab a bottle of wine while the demon quietly panics. </p>
<p>What is he going to say? Is this about his rude joke? He should have known better. You don't push so fast and act crude around an angel. This isn't a college dormitory. But could he just pretend that he isn't corrupted? That he isn't base and a little or maybe a lot depraved. He is a bloody demon. What were they thinking to even try this? It's a basic incompatibility. Aziraphale is going to be nice and polite and kick his ass out. It was just an inevitable end. It didn't matter how much he desired the company of this holy being, he is craven. Oil and water don't mix. He is just going to have to steel himself long enough to get out of the cottage before falling apart.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Big Impossible Conversation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Just as Crowley is wrapping up his defenses, the angel returns with the wine. In a single moment, just watching the beautiful way he moves, Crowley knows that nothing he does is going to save him from the hurt. He can barely even look at the angel without painfully longing to be close. The only thing that could erase his need is a long drought of holy water. And there we have it. That sharp familiar bolt of rage rips through his stomach. That simmering well of despairing hate at the entire universe for setting every good and bright thing against him. Again.</p><p>“Get on with it, then.” He snaps, gritting his teeth before even more of those sharp hurt words can spill out.</p><p>Aziraphale jumps a little at the biting coldness in Crowley’s voice. A little worried frown pinches his features but he hands the demon a glass of wine. “I need.” Aziraphale begins and swallows nervously. He ignores his wine and stares at the wall for a second as if he is composing his words. “I need to apologize to you, Crowley. Actually no. I need to apologize and then I need to explain myself. And then I need to do better. Will you help me try to do that?”</p><p>“What?” Crowley practically shouts in sheer surprise. The anger is slapped right out of his entire body by the entirely unexpected turn this whole conversation just took. “What are you on about, Angel?” he asks a second time at a more reasonable volume. His shock pulls him upright on the couch and leaning forward as if distance is going to make this entire situation clearer.</p><p>Aziraphale takes his place on the swiveling desk chair again and holds his wine against his chest. “There are certain things we never talked about Crowley. Not in all these years. I was afraid. Afraid that if I heard you say them, it would challenge me. It would change my heart and my mind. It would make me see the truth and that it would hurt. </p><p>I couldn’t ever really know what it meant. What it means for you to be fallen. To be thrown away. The very first beings in your life and your heart and even your creator stepped aside and let you believe that you are unworthy. They treated you as if you are evil and broken. They were afraid of your questions. </p><p>I couldn’t ever listen to that story and really understand it. I knew that if I ever looked at it too hard. I would be changed. I would have to change. And I was afraid too. I’ve been a coward for such a long, long time.” The angel takes a long breath and doesn’t raise his eyes from the trembling wine glass in his hands. </p><p>“And then the other day, when you were teasing and making a little joke between us, I got so frustrated. It was just like it has always been. You bring up a topic so carefully and mostly as a joke to tiptoe carefully into it. You steer wide and hide from me what you really want. You pull down the shades around your heart just like you do those beautiful eyes. You are afraid I will be upset or angry and watch me with concern that I will somehow be offended or push you away. </p><p>You wanted me to think of you around, and with, and owning sex toys. Of having sexual interest and wanting sexual things. But you didn’t feel comfortable enough to buy sex toys you even like! You had to hide even that much truth from me by purchasing silly cheap things. And even now, your face looked so hurt when I walked in. You are terrified that I will send you away. That I will punish you for something so small. Tell me, Crowley, did you just imagine that exact thing while I was getting the wine?” </p><p>Crowley is sitting as still as a stone. Incapable of making any answer at all except a startled “wh-ggk” But the distressed angel is too deep into this conversation to actually wait for a coherent answer and plows on.</p><p> “I thought because I was brave that one time at the end of things that it would fix everything. When it really was a matter of life or death I chose you. I thought that would erase all of my cowardice that came before. But it doesn’t. That is not how it works. Moving here together was not an undoing of everything that got us here. </p><p>I am frustrated that you don’t trust me, but I have given you absolutely no reason to. Not a single indication that I am going to be better than the angels that threw you out. I did act just as horribly. I pushed you away, I hid things from you, I kept not listening and insisting I was right. I even threatened to not talk to you. You, who have been my very closest friend for so long.” Aziraphale grits his teeth and shakes his head at his own arrogance and ignorance. He is very visibly shaking with fury at himself.</p><p>“My best and truest friend who has been turned away from the face of god herself. I told you that I too would turn you aside like that. I was a bloody fool and there is absolutely no excuse. </p><p>I said that you go too fast for me. I am saying right now, Crowley, that I was the coward that couldn’t change and couldn’t face my own hypocrisy. So I need to make it right. I will make it right. I don’t know how long it will take, but I will do better. I need you to help me do better. I want to change. After all this time. I want to fall out of the habit of pushing you away.”</p><p>Crowley is still frozen and completely undone by the tide of emotion that rises to knock tears over his cheeks and down past the edge of his sunglasses. </p><p>He had been so sure.</p><p>Everything always goes to shit and relief squeezes his throat closed. The bold mention of that endless worthless feeling is like the angel has reached a holy hand into the cage of his chest and pulled out his secret heart and laid it wide before their eyes. He is only able to squeeze out the smallest whisper. </p><p>“I thought- I thought you were going to ask me to leave.” His stunned whisper is more than anyone could have ripped from him with torture. In this moment, with the rawest admission of pain and longing coming from that bright angel, it’s enough to jangle the words right out of his mouth. The embarrassing wash of tears have now reached his chin and soft palms reach to catch them, to catch him just before he shakes apart. </p><p>Aziraphale has set aside his wine and holds Crowley’s face between his wide warm hands. Closing his eyes he moves forward until his forehead is resting against the demon’s bright soft hair. “No, Crowley. I wasn’t clear when I asked you to come here with me. I don’t want you to leave. Not ever. Stay here with me. I want to see you every day. I don’t care if you fill the entire house with awful orange sex toys.” They both huff with a silent laugh at the hilarious idea of an entire cottage overflowing with cheap butt plugs. A long quiet moment passes as the burst of emotion finally ebbs and eases away. </p><p>“Now.” The angel says softly as if he is putting away the topic. “Let us finish this bottle and I wanted to ask you to find the ebay for me. There is a rumor of a Hafiz that was owned by a queen. I am rubbish at the internet and need your expertise.” </p><p>Crowley is suddenly able to breathe and move again and they fall back into the comforting patterns of drink and conversation.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. That Little Bit of Courage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nothing really dramatically changes. Not really. They are infinite beings and the stretch of a few weeks just pondering a single thought can happen.</p><p>Like this thought: <em><strong>I made a ridiculous sex joke and Aziraphale didn't freak out at all and instead, he apologized for not being worthy and trusted enough for me to tell him outright</strong></em>. What the fuck? What is a demon to even do with that?</p><p>For one, he was wary of making any more pranks or jokes. His defensive joking is a coping mechanism he really never touched before. Now that he knows Aziraphale will start feeling bad about them, he notices how often he does that. He supposes that joking will come back eventually because it's fun to watch the angel smile. But not so soon after that impassioned and very real apology. He knows the ball is in his court. But what exactly does that mean? How do you just casually mention. "<strong><em>By the way angel, I touch all my naughty places thinking about your hands on my face.</em></strong>"</p><p>Even more importantly, how does one just get over thousands of years of rejection and being told you are wrong and evil? It's not like he can snap his fingers and fix this. He is still terrified. It's a habit by now. But one that has been mentioned. It's been dug up and brought into the light. It's only going to be defeated by trusting somebody and giving them the chance to hurt him. That is basically asking a demon to stop demon-ing.</p><p>Fuckit. He is living with a goddamn angel. He is already standing outside the realms of remaining infernal. It's bound to have some side effects. Like making soft sex jokes that cause an angel to hold his face while he cries. For instance. And that. Well it had been so good. So goddamn good. The way his palms radiated heat and his forehead had pressed into Crowley's hair. I don't want you to leave. Not ever. Stay with me. Maybe he touches all his naughty places for more than just those beautiful strong hands soaking in his tears. Those words had hammered into his heart, ringing with truth. Stuck there in the loop. Fuck. He is going to have to be drunk for this.</p><p>Good job they get drunk often. Because he chickens out. Several times. He knows exactly what he is going to do. He won't even have to say anything out loud. The ugly butt plug now lives on the angel's desk. A reminder? A shared joke? Who knows. It is conveniently near where they are getting hammered. All he has to do is reach for it. Ok. This time. He is gonna do it. He waffles until his vision is almost doubled from drink. Then incredibly. Yes! He swipes the hideous object into his palm and considers it. Aziraphale giggles at the silly old thing and Crowley turns his wrist to hide it beneath his hand while stretching forward to hand it to the angel.</p><p>Aziraphale is only confused for a moment, because the toy that drops into his hand is nothing like the one Crowley just picked up. The cheap plastic is now sleek heavy blown glass. It's still a wide plug but the taper is longer. It is a deep rich blue like a midnight sky and if you turn it in the light you can see pinpricks of glitter suspended within. Like stars scatter there. It is clearly handcrafted and expensive. And lovely.</p><p>"Oh." The angel murmurs into the sudden silence. "This, then. It's what you like."</p><p>Crowley nods silently, unable to raise his eyes and trying to catch his breath. His heart is hammering so hard he can feel it in his fingertips. He feels like racing away. Jumping into his Bentley and driving and driving. All the seconds keep piling up in silence and he doesn’t dare lift his eyes to see anger or disgust on his angel's face.</p><p>Something like quiet reverence is in Aziraphale's voice when he asks, "Tell me why? This one?"</p><p>Expecting humor or disgust and instead hearing this soft eager question does finally snap his eyes up to stare at the angel in surprise. But only for a second. Because the eyes looking back at him are not just interested. They are hungry. Pinned intently as if trying to see beyond his face and into whatever makes him tick.</p><p>It's shocking enough that he is answering before he can stop himself. "Wh- ah- It's uhm. It's glass. Way to state the obvious.<br/>So you. Shit. <strong><em>Wow. Now I am implying that he should be involved</em></strong>.<br/>Well not You-you. <em><strong>I am in some sort of nightmare right now.</strong></em><br/>But. Somebody-<br/>It. Can be warmed. Or chilled. With some ice.<br/>Or some hot water or breath. <em><strong>Don't think about his breath against that glass. Why not think about pink elephants too. I am staring at his hand holding it already. Warming it. His mouth and lips and breath just there.</strong></em><br/>Fuck." <em><strong>Change the subject.</strong></em><br/>Crowley scrubs a hand down his face. "Uhm. It's heavy. <em><strong>Sticking to the facts. yes.</strong></em><br/>So it feels. Here we are discussing how it feels. <em><strong>Nope. Skip. Will discorporate.</strong></em><br/>Well-<br/>And.<br/>Easy to clean. <em><strong>Nice, Crowley. You sound like an advert.</strong></em><br/>It stays perfect for ages. It's not going to wear out." <em><strong>Like you Angel. You have been perfect for ages.</strong></em></p><p>This last blast of awkwardness is all he can take and so he leaps from his seat and lunges for the exit and out into the night. He doesn't dare grab the Bentley in this state and no way is he ready to be sober. Crowley walks until sunrise before he finally feels the terror and weirdness drain away.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Curious Little Angel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thankfully, everything is perfectly normal when he returns. Well, perfectly normal except the part where he keeps remembering the intent look on Aziraphale’s face. It was curiosity. Focused intention on something new and interesting. </p><p>If imagination is Crowley’s one gift that stands out from other demons. For Aziraphale, that one gift, is his unending curiosity. A new story and a new taste is what drove him to have that first meal and the next and the next. He doesn’t just eat. He consumes the whole of it. Set before him something new and suddenly he is rapturous. What gustatory horizons will he discover today? Adventuresome eating is a story. It is a visceral hedonistic connection to the lineage in blood and bone. A mother’s recipe, a family secret that can be shared by an entire village in the language of the body but unknown to all in its particulars. Life unwrapped and steaming on the plate. All of humanity overcoming the void for one more day by ripping that life from the ground and sky and sea and consuming it all. Then in all the wash of triumph to elevate it to art. To set the body upon its needs with more than beastly urges. To marry hunger and curiosity in the way that turns all things into beauty. Not eating to live but living to eat. It is the height of temporal joys. The feast. The short story that holds, in a single bite, all of the volumes of the world. If all of humanity doesn't get that next bite all the stories would fall to the side and the only story would be about food. Human curiosity created cuisine. Angelic curiosity created demons. Is it so surprising that a curious angel might dine with a demon?</p><p>Aziraphale is not content to just walk the realms of the physical experience of body and being. That hunger expands toward stepping into other worlds and existing as other people.You don’t amass a hoard of human knowledge unless you are entranced by the notion of chasing some new bright idea or perspective. He is tenacious in his need and quite happy with his snobbish disdain for people who cannot treasure it properly. He would rather cut off a limb than sell a book to anyone who will remain narrow of heart and mind and reject the wide open vista of story. </p><p>Crowley is pretty sure that the only reason why they have been friends for so long is because Aziraphale just wanted to know how his day was. And the next one. And the next. You can’t ask the angel to put away an interesting story because he always wants to know what is next. Armageddon would have closed that book far too early. It's reason enough to fly in the face of his superiors and cling to the most nail biting tale yet. The human one. And apparently all that interest and curiosity just got leveled right at Crowley. </p><p>It had been a shy glancing thing before. The angel’s incessant need to dig and poke and examine had been restrained by propriety before. A restraint that no longer applies. The demon is being studied and the hedonistic way that Aziraphale gathers his interests around himself implies being exposed completely. Unwrapped and unraveled and teased and turned until there isn’t a single facet unexplored. Devoured is a word that comes to mind. </p><p>No wonder they have danced this way for so very long. The angel would have him for a banquet. Every story and secret exposed. And no one hides like those who have been brought low by love. By family. Cut apart and away from comfort. It makes even the brightest and best curl up and harden and hide. He sleeps for a century or two and hopes it goes away. Swaggers and sweats and lives close to the burrow and stone. Being open and exposed and examined is hardly possible for the innocent and nigh impossible for a demon. </p><p>Six thousand years of watching Aziraphale at the table and in his books might just work though. There are only so many pretty moments a demon can stand. Watching Aziraphale's lashes flutter against his alcohol flushed cheek and those soft delighted sounds! Sometimes he envies his fellow fiends the luxury of having no imagination. The angel had given him too much to imagine. The softness and inviting warmth of him would tempt anyone with a pulse to bask in it. His strong wide hands wielded a sword and handled books with equal grace. It all makes Crowley's skin ache. So many times the demon has spent himself over the tight stretch of slacks around those thighs. He can't even approach the thought of those thighs bare and wrapped around him. He doesn't make it that far. Imagining the relief of touching those thick thighs with his fingertips while Aziraphale holds his face between his palms has enough punch. And now he has that intense focused look to add to the tortuous pile of pure hedonistic fantasy. His poor car. It's a good thing he has occult resources because it would reek of cum and desperation by now. He can't very well knock one out while the angel presses his lips against the rim of a teacup in the very next room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. I Want to Touch a Little</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is after one of his restless wandering journeys that Crowley feels wound down enough to settle into the couch for a round of binge watching tv. It's about the fifth hour in when the angel joins him. By this time he has sunk into the dazed hazy bliss of boneless passive laziness.</p><p>"I don't wish to interrupt." Aziraphale murmurs softly.</p><p>"Not at all, angel. I'm only half watching anyway. What is it?" He turns his head toward his companion. When did he get so close?</p><p>"Well, I wanted to ask you. Will you show me?" Darkness had gathered in the room as the hours passed, but the cheap silver plastic shines in the angel's palm. Instantly Crowley feels a hot wave of excitement and terror wash over his skin. It's the little bullet vibrator. He swallows and tries valiantly to remember how to breathe.</p><p>"I want to touch you with it if you will show me."</p><p>Crowley isn't sure if he has made a noise or how weak or desperate it might have sounded because his entire body is so on board that his head is nodding. Time seems to have slid away because suddenly the angel is pressed against his side and oh if he turns a bit. There. His back is pressed to the angel's chest. He is cradled there with warm solid arms tucking him close. It feels so damn good that Crowley groans softly and loses control of his hips. To be fair, he hasn't ever really reined his hips in from doing whatever it is they do. So it's no big shocker that the horny roll of his hips is the first indication that Crowley is about to lose his fucking mind.</p><p>Aziraphale reaches down as if to soothe his writhing by smoothing his hand down Crowley's waist and over his hip. The angel digs his fingertips over the jutting ledge of bone and suddenly the toy cupped in his palm buzzes to feeble life. Crowley gasps in surprise and feels the amused rumble of a laugh roll through Aziraphale's chest.</p><p>"Would you like me to stop?" The angel speaks against the skin behind Crowley's ear. The demon is still speechless and shakes his head. "Well, we have an agreement. Show me first. Just like before."</p><p>Crowley reaches with one shaking hand to cover the angel's where the buzzing toy still whines. The demon draws their hands to the aching heat of his crotch where his cock is making every effort to break his zipper. His longer slim fingers press over the angel's warm strong hand and Crowley turns his face down to watch them urge the frustrating weak buzz of the toy against himself. The angel has rolled up his sleeves. Crowley can't stop looking at the pale spread of Aziraphale's hand cupping him over his black jeans. It's so mesmerizing that he forgets the next step and instead stares at that perfect hand flex and rock. He sucks in great gulps of the gorgeous scent of paper and rosewater cologne. Oh yeah, he was going to do something wasn’t he? Crowley has to hide as he sends a twining thread of power into the toy. He turns his face toward the blissful warm stretch of Aziraphale's neck and burrows into the scent there.</p><p>The occult power races to do his will but twines around the angel's fingers to get to it. A hard gasp at the sensation and a flex of his hand is all the response the angel gives as the toy expands and bulges and sprouts a stem. The tiny battery hum deepens to a husky dark growl of horsepower and the toy shudders with sudden hard vibrations. Aziraphale is forced to grip it tighter to keep it steady, his bare forearms flexing to hold it in place as the demon in his arms begins to shake. The stem swells and lengthens until it is clearly a long plastic handle. Crowley's hand flies up from pressing against the angel's hand to hold the handle of the transformed vibrating wand. The angel shifts his hold as well, sliding up to copy the white knuckled death grip that the demon has on the toy.</p><p>Whimpering from overstimulation, the demon pushes his hand down to the grinding round head of the toy and adjusts it lower down off the tender ridge of his erection. Lower while spreading his legs. There. He can feel it. Barely. The jeans are blocking so much of the sensation but if he can rock his hips up and open his legs. The toy is pressing hard against his perineum and the unreasonably sensitive nerves around the clenching twitch of his hole. Just a little harder. seeking to grind the toy hard enough to vibrate his prostate. He reaches to pull the angel's hand down harder, until the head of the toy is rammed tight enough there to feel the vibrations in his bones.</p><p>He finally couldn't hold back a true gasp of pleasure and it seems to break his restrained silence. He is chanting curse words and “please please angel” into the hot skin of Aziraphale's throat. Aziraphale takes away all that gorgeous hard vibration for a moment as if to test a hypothesis. Crowley's rebellious hips arch up and roll and beg for it to come back. He scrambles for something to hold onto and finds thick thighs surrounding him. How had he not noticed before? The angel is cradling him completely. Those thighs. His fingers clench and grip and he whines. He fucking whines and opens his legs wider. The angel obliges and pushes the toy right back where it was, hard. The plastic handle creaks from the abuse. Crowley can swear the vibrations are shaking his skull. Had the angel done something to the wand to make it even stronger? He makes a sound that he didn't even know he could make. Soft and breathless and desperate. The rough hard ride of the toy is digging in tight enough to make the seam of his jeans bite into his cock. The spike of pleasure and pain does it. He comes hard. A jackhammer of pleasure has him arching his back and his hands flying to push the toy away. His thighs draw together and he shudders and writhes in Aziraphale's arms. The toy stops growling and falls to the floor. The angel’s arms lift to wrap around his waist and chest to anchor him close. He floats for a long time. Sprawled there against Aziraphale's chest with his nose pressed into the scent of him.</p><p>His first coherent moment registers the angel's hand pushing through his hair in slow sweeps and a blanket is draped over his curled up legs. He is cradled in a fetal position against Aziraphale’s wide warm chest and the rhythm of his heart is something never considered or imagined before. He should probably be panicking but it feels too good here surrounded by strong warm arms. He will get up. Any minute now. Instead, he drifts off to sleep with the tv screen still chattering and his angel watching over him.</p><p>It is some hours later when Crowley wakes to find that he is still embarrassingly tangled around the patient angel. If he had somehow hoped to escape this newest breach of boundaries by sleeping until the agent of his dissolution would give up and creep away to do other things, he was mistaken. Aziraphale doesn't seem the slightest bit inclined to let the poor demon pretend nothing has happened. "Ah. There you are dear."</p><p>Ever eloquent, Crowley manages to make a sound that falls somewhere between confused and embarrassed. The floundering awkwardness squirming in his stomach cuts off precipitously the moment he feels Aziraphale bury his face against the side of his head. The angel pushes his nose into the spun copper softness of Crowley's hair and nods slowly as if enjoying the texture and scent of him. Nuzzling. <em><strong>He is wrapped right up against me and rubbing his face against my hair! Amazing!</strong></em> The intimacy of such a thing is so overwhelming that Crowley can only sit still as stone and silently hope that he never ever stops. When he speaks, his lips touch the edge of Crowley's ear. It's probably a good thing that the demon doesn't need to breathe, because he forgot how to for a long moment.</p><p>"Crowley. I never understood what in the world all the fuss was about. With this type of intimacy. Not until today. Not until I held you like this. I have never seen you so beautiful. Ever. You have always been stunning. But this." Aziraphale presses his arms tighter around Crowley with possessive intent. "And you fell asleep here. I knew you slept, but I've never seen it. I wanted to stay still and not disturb you. But I also wanted to touch your face and your hands. You have completely surprised me. I didn't think anything so simple would be so lovely. It's because it is you. Silly old snake. You always manage to make me feel new amazing things." The angel has taken up the slow task of running his blunt fingernails up and down Crowley's arm. "I don't want to move. Not for a while yet. Would you be amenable to that, dear? Can we rest here longer?"<br/>Crowley is only capable of nodding.</p><p>They settle into comfort for a long while before the natural tendency for the angel to chatter manifests. "Crowley, last time I pressed you for the reasons you enjoy that other toy. This time, I think perhaps I have some insights. You were so kind as to allow me to observe." His bright excited tone tugs a wry smile from the demon.</p><p>The situation is absolutely like nothing they have ever experienced before. But comfortingly, nothing has really changed. Aziraphale is still the same delightful curious angel he has always been. It makes every tense nervous muscle in Crowley relax as he falls into their familiar banter. "You were doing a lot more than just observing, Angel. Unless you observe with your hands these days."</p><p>It’s an entirely wonderful experience to feel Aziraphale huff a soft laugh. His chest and stomach move and Crowley reflects that he has seen him laugh. He has heard him laugh. Now, he has felt him laugh.</p><p>The sun is spreading her skirts over the tiny house before they finally manage the effort to move. Even then, Crowley feels dazed and unreal. Existence is pain and this hazy utopia feels so fragile. He is quite sure that any day will reveal the quicksilver twist of the knife. He makes silent wagers with himself for when the next rejection will come. All at once steeling himself for the punch and dodging it too. The best way he figures on not having to see the disgusted look on Aziraphale's face is to not ask for anything. The only problem with this is that he wants so badly to be right back in that place again. Pressed close by those thick warm arms. Sleeping with the angel’s breath soft and hot against the back of his neck.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Impossible repeats of impossible things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is almost two weeks before Crowley has a flash of brilliant insight that maybe if he recreates that couch meld, it might summon the angel for a repeat. So he casually drapes himself on the couch. And casually has the vibrator near. He is also casually wearing the softest yoga pants. You know. Just in case. The only problem is himself really. He can’t possibly deal with the anxiety and the pressure of just sitting so idle and waiting. It is making his legs jitter and his hips shift. His breath drags out in a sigh and his fingers to sift and sift through his hair. Aziraphale notices of course. He approaches with all the subtle nuance of a freight train. Those blue eyes shine with delight. </p><p>Aziraphale hasn't the slightest idea how to be cool about anything and so he asks "Might I join you?" With all the eagerness of a puppy and Crowley does all the blushing for him. Why can't he stop being his effusive talkative self for just two minutes for the demon to catch his breath? But no. He compliments Crowley on the idea of comfortable clothes and asks if it is OK to settle behind him as they were before. It is absolutely excruciating but immediately and completely worth it the second that the angel is settled behind him. The radiating heat in Crowley’s face is given the softest brush of fingertips and he basks in the sensation with his eyes pressed closed. If he doesn’t open them, maybe it will all stay just as hazy and impossible and perfect. Looking at it might make it real. </p><p>The angel doesn’t immediately pick up the vibrator though. Instead he lingers for a long time just holding Crowley close. He has finally fallen mercifully silent. Once again, Aziraphale presses his face into the soft hair that tucks around the demon’s ear. He seems in no rush to move things along and a slow sweet languor wraps the room in a reverent kind of peace. One warm palm scoots beneath the soft jersey knit of Crowley’s shirt to rest over his kicking heart. Heat spilling from the center of his chest gathers there and soothes it down to a heavy steady thump. They are not often silent together. It never seemed like they had the time to be silent. There was always some pressure to connect. Some need to say all the things that come to mind. It is a rare and new thing, this quiet. The mumbling chatter of the TV fills the empty spaces of the room with a surreal background track that is surprisingly soothing. There is tension in the silence that pricks his skin to almost painful wakefulness. He has never felt so embodied before. So present in his skin. His vessel had always been more a suggestion of humanity than all of this hedonistic sparking of sensation. It’s deeper somehow with the angel touching him. As if his skin is new and thrumming with life. All of this before the angel even gets around to touching anything salacious at all. </p><p>By the time Aziraphale does slide his other hand down the edge of Crowley’s hip, the silence can’t hold any longer. A low desperate sound escapes before the demon can swallow it back. His surprised cringe at the noise draws a soft huff of laughter from the angel behind him. The amused sound of it is so dark and laced with enough lust that Crowley shivers. His angel has never sounded like that.  His imagination is lit up with all the noises that he desperately wants to hear now. That thought has his cock twitching in his pants almost as much as the stroking slide of fingertips over his hip. </p><p>Just as he is about to start whining with overstimulated tension, the angel almost causes him to choke on his tongue by dipping that warm hand right into his pants. A softly pampered angelic fist is wrapped right around the head of his cock. The heat of his palm feels like it is pushing flames into the cradle of his hips. Aziraphale is done playing around or hesitating. With one ridiculously smooth motion, the vibrator has suddenly appeared in his other hand. The angel tugs just once on Crowley’s cock and the redhead slams his thighs together and squirms, trying to curl up into a fetal position. </p><p>“Open up for me, dear.” Aziraphale suggests in the softest tone and the words are all at once completely familiar and totally foreign. It's such a dichotomy of demand and softness that it takes a long time to process. Crowley does finally settle enough to uncurl his legs and spread them wide. The demon reaches for the head of the vibrator and down to lift his tender balls out of the way. Once the wand is in place he nods in satisfaction and is rewarded with one tight squeeze from the angel. He doesn’t show any sign of hesitation and grinds the toy up hard and flips the switch. The vibrator growls and Crowley groans and digs his fingertips into Azraphale’s thigh. His dick jumps in Aziraphale’s fist and the angel rubs his thumb over the wet tip. The angel’s hand is hot and dry and not rubbing or letting Crowley fuck his fist. He is only holding it. Tight. Hot and tight and ignoring how the squirming thrust of the demon’s hips beg for friction. All he is giving is the softest rubbing smear of his thumb over the dripping slit and the brush of his forefinger over the frenulum beneath the swollen head. Just hot and tight while the vibrator hums and chatters and digs tighter into his perineum and the clenching ache of his hole. He spreads his legs wider, pulls them up to urge his body tighter into the sensation. Thrusting his cock was frustrating to no end because the angel was being so implacable. But opening his legs wider, arching his hips up to grind against the vibrator is doing it. Aziraphale isn’t going to let him come the easy way. </p><p>Just feeling himself throb and swell and jerk inside Aziraphale’s palm has the temperature soaring. All of his skin flushes and the sound his panting fights with the buzzing hum of the vibrator. Sweat gathers at the edges of his temples and the angel licks- licks! It from his skin. And no matter how he bucks or squirms, that tight impossible grip on his cock stays exactly where it is. He is sensitized so fine that he anticipates every new brush of the teasing thumb that keeps rubbing drips of precum into the crown of his dick. It isn’t enough. It isn’t ever going to be enough and he is just going to hang suspended on this pleasure until he goes right out of his mind. His moans of pleasure have shifted now to complaining whines. How long will he be teased like this? The angel seems in no hurry to resolve it, and his thighs are starting to ache and twitch with the wide spread. It is distracting and pulling his attention away from the pleasure. His frustration mounts.</p><p>He is so occupied with his dilemma that he is completely unprepared when teeth enter the scene. Aziraphale has nuzzled his way into the blazing thrash of Crowley’s pulse and presses his teeth there. It is so unexpected that it finally tips the balance. A little hoarse whispering cry spills from the demon’s lips and his body erupts. His cock spurts over Aziraphale’s fingers and those teeth dig deeper into his skin. The twitching sparks of his orgasm flutters the rim of his hole where the buzzing vibrator encourages another pulse and another from his cock. He suddenly wants the vibrator to dig up deeper, up inside. He wants to be filled up. But the moment passes and his legs fall limp onto the couch while his hands push the toy away with an overstimulated groan. Aziraphale flips the vibrator off and drops it to occupy his hands while gathering Crowley tight. His teeth have given up their prize and he is tenderly kitten licking the abused wet skin. </p><p>Once again, every tense muscle in Crowley has relaxed and sleep threatens. The angel is prepared for it and is drawing a blanket from the ether and tucking him safe and warm into his chest before he can work up the energy to resist. He cannot remember heaven being so good. Not nearly as good as this impossible little couch in their impossible little cottage.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. A history of impossible homes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley absolutely floats through the next week as if in a dream. Every so often, he catches a glimpse of Aziraphale’s hands opening a book or clutching a pen and a little shiver of remembered pleasure will zing up his spine. The expanse of joy inside his bones feels like it is glowing from between his ribs. He makes any and every excuse to be near Aziraphale and even dares to find reason to rest his hand at the small of his back. To draw his fingers beneath his elbow. To lean into his space. The angel fairly preens beneath the attention. Always smiling and glancing up at Crowley through his lashes. </p>
<p>Unfortunately, what goes up must come down. And former angels have a history for epic falls.</p>
<p>He is suddenly very aware of the facts. Fact one: he had been the one to bring up the sex toys with his jokes and hints. Fact two: Aziraphale had not even once instigated any of the intimate writhing on the couch. Fact three: His friend. His best friend. Crowley had to drag his best friend into jacking him off. What is wrong with him? Why can't he ever just be happy? He had all of heaven. The presence of God herself and it wasn't enough. No. Crowley can't just enjoy anything. Ever. Always he has to be pushing and prodding and poking everyone around into chaos. Now it's his best friend. He can't just thrill in all of the wonderful time they have. Can't just relax and bask in the sun. No. He has to get all itchy and questioning. He has to ask for more. Has to drag all this stupid physical shit with him. That is an angel in there. Crowley should be kissing the ground he walks. Not making stupid faces at him until he gives a pity wank. Fuck. </p>
<p>He has to get out of here. This isn't working. Aziraphale is too kind and will keep doing nasty shit just to humor him. How can he even look him in the eye anymore? It's too humiliating. They gave it a go. Fine. It's obvious that they really should just keep it to neighborly visits. Living together just complicates things.</p>
<p>Aziraphale comes into the room where Crowley is tossing the few actual corporeal items he owns into a bag. </p>
<p>"Ah. Crowley. Are you going somewhere?" The angel asks with a glitter of excitement in his eyes.</p>
<p>"Yes Aziraphale. I'm leaving." Crowley answers darkly. </p>
<p>The use of his name instead of angel is enough to wrinkle the angel's brow with concern. "Leaving?" He asks with the edge of hurt inching into his voice. "Shall I get my things then?" He adds with a cautious tone. </p>
<p>"No, angel." Crowley softens his tone but refuses to look Aziraphale in the eye. "I'll be back to visit." The demon swipes his glasses up and onto his face before setting his jaw and heading for the door. </p>
<p>"Crowley. Stop." Aziraphale grabs the edge of the bag to halt the demon. "Talk to me. Where are you going?"</p>
<p>Crowley does stop and takes a long deep breath. "It's just not working out." He finally manages to say. </p>
<p>“It’s not...Crowley..It is working. I have never seen you this happy. I can feel joy.There isn’t any way for you to fake that.” Aziraphale insists. “Until just now.” He admits quietly.  “ So what are you talking about? What has changed?”</p>
<p>“Nothing!” Crowley finally lashes out between his teeth. “Absolutely nothing has changed and that is the problem.” </p>
<p>“I can think of several things that have most certainly changed Crowley. You are just wrong about that.” The angel is wearing his stubborn face, the one that insisted on his side being the right one for thousands of years. His obstinate determination to have this conversation is not going to just let Crowley fuck off without notice.</p>
<p>Crowley groans. “Allright. Yes.” He concedes. “Things have changed. I just. I just haven’t.” The demon drops his bag and turns to flop into a chair as if exhausted. “I keep trying. I think for an entire day or two that I have changed. Something is going well. For once. Like I fit here. With all of this.” He gestures around the room to encompass all the domestic bliss surrounding him. “I am living with an angel for fucks sake! And I am still like this.” He hisses the last word as if to underline the disgust he feels. </p>
<p>Aziraphale’s brows have reached maximum confusion and he squints at Crowley as if he can somehow read between the words to understand what has gone so wrong. “Like what, exactly?” He presses.</p>
<p>Crowley doesn’t answer and only lifts a shoulder in a shrug and continues to look miserable.</p>
<p>The angel doesn’t give up, only continuing to stare as if waiting for an answer.</p>
<p>“This cottage, angel. Living here. I am a demon.” Crowley stresses as if it is somehow explaining it better. “This place is quiet. It's warm. It smells like books. It has…” Crowley picks up a scrap of knitted lacy fabric. “These!” He waves it in his fist. “Doilies. This house has doilies. And the sun comes up through that window there and shines on the floor. It’s nice. And you. You angel, you are here too. It’s perfect. It’s.” Crowley feels his chest compressing with the familiar itchy desire to run away. He checks the door for his exit.</p>
<p>Aziraphale notes the pre-flight check and steps right into Crowley’s line of vision. “Crowley. We can change anything you like. If you feel uncomfortable. We can make any change you need to feel at home. This is a demon’s home too. Really. I am sure we can find some wicked furniture. Spikes and such I imagine. I was reading the most interesting book about hostile architecture.” The angel can sense that he is meandering from the point and stops himself with a little nod and checks Crowley’s face for some sign that his offer has helped at all.</p>
<p>Apparently not. Crowley has only groaned and sunk further into his chair. “Angel, I didn’t say that I don’t like it.” His admission is half hidden behind the hand he is scrubbing down his face. “It's just impossible. I’m a demon and I don’t belong here.” His voice is so tired and his shoulders droop even further. “I am trying, angel. I keep. I want. Sometimes I think it’s going to be ok and I’m happy. But it doesn’t stay. I fuck it all up.” He admits in the smallest whisper.</p>
<p>“Crowley. You haven’t fucked it up. Not at all. Look around. This home is warm and all of our things are here and we are together. It isn’t fucked up.” The cursing sits surprisingly well on Aziraphale’s tongue and Crowley can’t help but be the tiniest bit amused at that.</p>
<p>“‘But I am going to.” Crowley insists. “You know. I lived in the most perfect place that ever existed. Heaven. And then the second most perfect place to ever exist. Eden. You know. I fucked that up. I wrecked it all. I am a demon. I can’t live in perfect, wonderful, good places. Not without shitting on everything and ruining it forever.” Crowley’s voice is filled with grief and disgust and he draws his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around his knees. </p>
<p>Aziraphale arches his brows at this revelation, suddenly having some idea where this is all going. “Well, Crowley it is a good thing you are no longer an agent of hell. Because they clearly didn’t honor you enough for your work. Wrecking Heaven and Eden ALL on your own like that. All by yourself. I know you are my most wily adversary to date but I didn’t know you were that powerful!” His clearly sardonic tone and his crossed arms betray his exact feelings on the matter. </p>
<p>“Angel! You know what I mean. I lived in perfection before. I had everything. I kept. Asking questions and pushing and fuck!” Crowley’s obvious pain is spilling out so hot and wild that his breath is starting to hitch and that squeezing despair in his chest clamps down like a vice.</p>
<p>Aziraphale can’t possibly stay across the room with this last outburst. He crosses the room and stretches his hands out to touch the demon’s clenched arms. “Crowley. It is not going to be like that this time. I swear it. You will not be left alone. We are together now. No one is going to take it away again. Not as long as I am here. Please. Look at me, dear boy. You belong here just as much as I do."</p>
<p>Crowley refuses the request and pushes his forehead against his knees instead. "I am already." He mourns with a voice soft enough that only an angel could have heard him. </p>
<p>"You are already what?" Aziraphale asks. </p>
<p>"I am already ruining everything. I'm a demon. I'm fucking everything up." Crowley insists without raising his head.</p>
<p>"I don't think you are. Our friendship of six thousand years can handle one difficult conversation Crowley. I'm glad to be talking with you instead of you leaving for sure." The angel pets his arm in reassurance.</p>
<p>Crowley only groans in frustration. "Not this. This isn't what I'm.." He finally raises his head from where it is buried. "I just... this place is perfect and good and nice and I can't just relax and calm down and enjoy it. I'm always wanting. Pushing. I keep asking for more. Something is wrong with me. I always do this. I have already started fucking it up!" He is back to gesturing and pulls his arms away from Aziraphale's touch. </p>
<p>A sudden revelation sweeps across Aziraphale's mind. Surely he isn’t. Oh. Surely he doesn't. He isn’t going to assume he understands and carefully asks Crowley “You keep wanting? Pushing? You want more of what?” </p>
<p>Crowley’s face freezes and his fingers tighten against his trousers. </p>
<p>He really thinks that all this new intimacy and sex is going to make Aziraphale kick him out. He thinks it's somehow pushing and asking for things the angel doesn’t want to give. If the entire situation didn’t make him feel every inch of Crowley’s pain and insecurity, he might strangle the demon for being so fucking dense. </p>
<p>Well it is obviously past time to settle this matter completely. Make it absolutely clear how he feels about the situation. As many times as it takes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Impossible moment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale slides his fingers down to link with Crowley’s. Bending close, he presses his lips softly against the knobby curve of his knuckles. It has suddenly occurred to the angel that he has not enforced his claims with anything but words. He has said that he isn’t offended. He has approached Crowley and asked to be let in. But he has left a lot of this entire situation up to his demon. It obviously is an arrangement that is making Crowley feel unsure and not completely clear on the boundaries of their arrangement right now. It would be better to switch that and take a little bit more of a direct approach. He has always been one to move slow and take his time but seeing Crowley so damn miserable isn’t where he wants them to stay. It is time to give more guidance and support and take the lead if it is what Crowley needs.</p><p>“I will let you go if it makes you happy Crowley.” Aziraphale lifts both of his hands and pushes them into Crowley’s hair. He cups his strong warm hands around the demon’s head and flexes his fingertips to scratch his nails over his scalp. He is careful not to bump Crowley’s glasses. Those had been put on as a defense mechanism. It is vital to communicate that he won’t demand or push anywhere that the redhead has drawn lines.</p><p>The tension in Crowley’s shoulders immediately washes away at the tender and confident touch from Aziraphale. The angel takes it for a sign that his approach is at least welcomed. He continues the strong flex of his fingers and even tugs gently at his hair in soothing solid strokes while speaking against Crowley’s knuckles. “But, before you leave, I want to make it absolutely clear that I don’t want you to go. And I also want to tell you right now that every single thing you want from me. Anything you want to have with me is exactly what I want to give to you. I am not being pressured or pushed in any way. You have not ruined anything. Let me give you whatever you want, Crowley.”</p><p>Aziraphale is absolutely determined to drive his point all the way home. So determined that he doesn’t hesitate when he notices that those beautiful hands are pressed there against his mouth. Before either of them takes another breath he has opened his lips and curved his tongue softly against one slender digit. Drawing the finger into his mouth, he sucks while tightening his hands in Crowley’s hair. The angel doesn’t even have to glance up to get Crowley’s instant reaction to the suggestive thrust of his finger into the hot wet interior of Aziraphale’s mouth. A full body shiver runs right over his shoulders and down his spine in one long ripple. It's such a gorgeous response that the angel smiles against Crowley’s hand and scrapes his teeth along the digit. Crowley’s hand twitches but doesn’t pull away from the continued oral assault. He endures it with completely enthralled silence until the angel doubles his effort and is happily fellating two of his fingers with smooth licking sucks. The intense pleasure the angel is getting from his task is immediately apparent by the devoted attention and tender leisure he is applying to it.</p><p>Crowley finally breaks his silence because it would be impossible to keep it. That mouth has been the showcase for too many of his fantasies to stay quiet. Unfortunately, the soft noise that finally spills past the demon’s lips seems to prompt the angel to pop his wet fingers out of that hot slick mouth. If Crowley could assemble a single coherent thought he might complain about the lack of sucking going on but instead he tries to remember how to breathe.</p><p>“Let me.” Aziraphale repeats and digs his fingers through Crowley’s hair again. He darts his tongue against his top lip as if he can still taste the demon’s skin there. “Let me give you anything you want.” he repeats before lifting his face and pressing his lips against the corner of Crowley’s mouth.</p><p>This time the sound that spills from his mouth is caught between their lips. It’s so impossible. He couldn’t have imagined such a thing. This embrace. The angel is pressing closer until he is leaning against Crowley’s raised knees. His wide warm palms are cupped tenderly to hold him in place and his soft amazing angel is kissing him. Kissing him over and over. Sucking at his lips and nipping his teeth into Crowley’s mouth with urgency and eagerness.</p><p>The demon feels his body melting beneath the unrelenting insistence of the angel’s kisses. His legs wobble before his soles slip from the edge of the chair and his feet land on the floor. Without the wedge of Crowley’s knees between them, the angel can press his advantage and he does. Stepping forward, he crowds the demon further into the chair.</p><p>“Crowley” Aziraphale mutters against his bottom lip and the raw urgency of his tone mirrors exactly how desperate Crowley feels. Before the demon can stop to think of it, his legs have moved without his permission to wrap around the angel’s thighs. This move was an absolutely genius idea that Aziraphale heartily agrees with, if you are to believe his own soft groan and the way he digs his fingertips into Crowley’s skin. Suddenly the chair is way too small and threatens to topple to the floor if not for the complete faith they both hold in its integrity while Aziraphale practically climbs into it with Crowley wrapped around his thighs. When the poor furniture has the temerity to complain at the abuse with a warning creak, they both take a breath to laugh softly at how utterly caught up they are in this impossible moment.</p><p>“Can I take you to bed?” Aziraphale asks against the corner of Crowley’s jaw and the demon jostles the glasses he had forgotten he was wearing with his consenting nod. The angel leans back to balance himself upright and Crowley loosens his thighs to unpeel himself. Immediately his leg is being pressed back into place with one of Aziraphale’s hands and the other is behind his back and hauling him up into the angel’s arms. “Don’t you dare go anywhere.” he says with an edge of demand that Crowley has never heard before. It makes his skin break out in goosebumps and his trousers feel even tighter. He gives in to the urge to curl into all that strength and he wraps his arms around Aziraphale’s neck.</p><p>The flexing bunch of the angel’s arms and the impossibly strong cradle of his embrace is more intimate than either of them had expected. They have to stop when Crowley decides to get a little bit lost in the sensation of rubbing his nose and lips into the delicate softness of Aziraphale’s throat. And again they have to stop when the angel dips his hand into Crowley’s waistband to touch the wedge of skin beneath Crowley's hiked up shirt. They make out for long minutes pressed against the bedroom door too. All in all, it's rather impressive they don't use a single miracle to get to the bed in one piece. They celebrate their success by tossing the demon’s shades somewhere around the bedside table and Aziraphale’s bow tie in the vague direction of the headboard.</p><p>With the shades gone, the angel learns all the joy of watching Crowley’s eyes while he slides his hand beneath his soft black tee. The last time he had scratched his nails over that stretch of bare skin, Crowley had been turned away and hiding his face. This time, he watches pleasure break across all the expressive planes of his face. Always so dramatic. Crowley wears every smirk and sneer with enthusiastic gusto. He wears pleasure with something far more hesitant and subtle. First a wide eyed surprise that showcases those golden eyes. Long unblinking moments of frozen shock. His face holds still as he absorbs the first wave of sensation. Aziraphale curls his fingertips against Crowley's skin and a shiver pops the demon's mouth open and he blinks quickly to compensate for his open eyed amazement. The angel is absolutely fascinated and digs his nails gently into Crowley's skin. This elicits the softest whine and those eyes slam shut as he bares his teeth in a grimace of pleasure.</p><p>Crowley's chin hikes up to expose the long line of his throat and Aziraphale can't possibly refuse an offer like that. His tongue is tracking the vibrating flutter of the demon's next groan when his nails rake down the angled plane of his chest to the softer dip of his stomach.</p><p>Crowley seems to remember that he has hands too because suddenly they are urgently fumbling to unbutton Aziraphale's shirt. The angel is no help at all and refuses to leave the curve of Crowley's throat for even a second. The demon's growl of frustration makes him laugh right there.</p><p>Aziraphale's smile is dancing against skin he just licked and his breath is tickling the edge of his jaw. It is so mind bendingly perfect that Crowley falls in love. Again. He can't stop doing that. He suddenly wants to ask him to laugh again. <em>There. Laugh for me. While I am holding you like this. While I can feel your body pressing me down into the bed. Please angel. I want to do this forever. I want to feel your mouth curving and your cock digging into my thigh. The sound of it. That happy sound. I would endure another six thousand years if all my reward was just this moment.</em></p><p>Of course when he finally manages to wrangle the shirt open, he is foiled by yet another layer of clothes. Crowley rolls his eyes at how absolutely absurd the entire situation is and how completely grossly human it is too. Reluctantly he retreats just enough to talk. "Wait. Angel. Wait." He manages in a hoarse voice.</p><p>Aziraphale freezes immediately and lifts away from Crowley with concern dimming the shine of his eyes.</p><p>"No. I mean. It's OK." Crowley rushes to assure the angel. "Just need to get out of these clothes, yeah?" He glances meaningfully down the length of their entwined legs that are still completely dressed.</p><p>"Oh! You do have a point." Aziraphale agrees while Crowley drinks in the picture of how flushed and tousled the angel looks. He quickly stands and takes on the business of stripping while winding up his usual habitual chatter. "Oh dear, I knew I was forgetting something." He says with a dramatic wiggle of his head and purse of his mouth that implies some hilarious joke is being made between them. It is at once so completely endearing and adorable and completely stupid that Crowley feels like melting again. How is this ridiculous amazing impossible moment even happening? His angel. The very same absurd and often frustrating and captivating angel is peeling off his clothes right there. All while casting embarrassingly knowing glances toward Crowley and making him feel like he might die from sheer arousal. All at the same time.</p><p>Crowley is so dazed that there is a stark naked angel touching his face before he realizes he hasn't even managed to do anything more than scoot to the edge of the mattress.</p><p>"Crowley. Are you allright, dear? Is it too much?" Aziraphale is tucking his hair behind his ear and watching his face with concern.</p><p>The demon can't manage words and so he shakes his head. He takes a long deep sigh and wraps his arms around the angel's naked waist. He hides his face again. This time against Aziraphale's chest. His emotions are crashing wildly inside his corporation and he hangs onto the angel to bear them. "It's not too much. Just. Need a moment." He admits quietly.</p><p>"Crowley. You have all the moments. Take as many as you need."</p><p>Those hands are back, stroking through Crowley's hair and smoothing over his shoulders in slow easy passes.</p><p>They take a moment. Just there at the edge of the mattress, at the edge of something bright and new, to hang on to each other as they always have</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Ineffable love</h2></a>
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    <p>It is some time later when Crowley realises that somehow they have managed to curl up together on the mattress. He is tucked right into the soft warm embrace of his angel. Fully dressed and pressed against all that pale pretty skin. Why in the world is he wasting time being an angsty bitch when he could be touching and tasting and otherwise despoiling this innocent moment? He laughs at himself and reaches to link their fingers. The soft manicured and pampered hand fits his skinny garden calloused hands perfectly. Those hands make his fingers not look so spindly and knobby and freckled. They look softer and curve around Aziraphale with ineffable perfection. Fucking hell, he is running an inner monologue about holding hands. What the fuck?</p><p>“Well it’s not entirely an inner monologue” Aziraphale points out helpfully. The bastard.</p><p>Crowley sends him his most venomous glare. It doesn’t do a blasted thing but causes Aziraphale to beam back at him with the most ridiculous grin. It’s such a familiar look on such a familiar face that Crowley finds himself feeling so much steadier.</p><p>Right. Despoiling an angel. He should get right on that.</p><p>“I do hope you intend to let me use that marvelous piece of glass on you, dear.” Aziraphale interrupts and gestures to the bedside table where the glass plug is tucked into a nest of towels.</p><p>He is doing this on purpose, Crowley thinks as he tries to remember what in the world words are. Before he can figure it out, the angel already has him sprawled on his back and clutching the sheets while Aziraphale peels his trousers down his legs.</p><p>In every scenario he had imagined of this (and he had imagined quite a lot), he had always assumed that his horny impulses would be inflicted on the angel and so it would be his fingers finding the wide curve of Aziraphale’s hips and his mouth open and hot against the quivering soft flesh of his belly. Instead, he is the one pressed into the bed with legs akimbo and the angel is decorating his naked hibones with a sucking ring of bites. His waist is gripped in those impossibly strong hands and soft desperate sounds keep falling from his lips.</p><p>Crowley dares to look down only to find his tee hiked to expose his chest and that soft cloud of white blonde curls so close. He gives in to the impulse to sink his fingers into the silk of his hair and is rewarded by a humming kiss in the crease of his thigh. He wrangles the tiniest bit of control over his unruly hips and manages to hold them still but it makes his entire body vibrate with the effort. His toes are curling and his cock has just bumped against the underside of the angel’s chin. The arousal that they had put off earlier is raging back with interest apparently and so far there isn’t a single sign that his angel is anything but delighted at the prospect.<br/>Aziraphale slips his hand over Crowley’s sharp hipbone and scratches his nails into the dark thatch of hair at the base of his cock. The demon clenches his fist in Aziraphale’s hair and gasps. He only chuckles against his skin and rubs his soft warm face right against his stiff prick.</p><p>“Please.” Crowley begs. He isn’t sure if he is begging for the sensation to stop tormenting him or to never ever stop. It’s the most extreme dichotomy of needs that he can’t parse anything more than just the one word.</p><p>“I want to taste you” the angel murmurs and licks gently just below Crowley’s belly button where his cock has kissed his skin and left a smear of precum.</p><p>Crowley can only nod his head and gently ease his fingers from the tight grip on Aziraphale’s hair. Of course, the angel would dive into this entire experience with some intention of tasting his lover. The angel’s olfactory hedonism has been driving Crowley slowly insane for a few thousand years. Why should right now be any exception? Oh but this is an exception to everything he might have imagined. His mouth is soft. Softer than silk. He presses his lips tenderly to the jutting ridge of Crowley’s cock and the demon has to swallow a groan. Aziraphale raises his hand to find the demon’s and he twines their fingers while reaching with the other to wrap around his dick. It’s stupidly intimate and Crowley can’t stop the burn of wetness that threatens the corners of his eyes.</p><p>He closes his lids and focuses on the feather light brushes of Aziraphale’s mouth over the tip of his cock. The angel said he wanted to taste and so he does, soft wet tongue lapping and rubbing over the dripping slit to gather his taste and long slow squeezing tugs to encourage more flavor to seep from him. The urgency from before has melted into the gentle agony of Aziraphale’s unrelenting curiosity. He is quite content to learn every twitch and flinch that inspires soft gasps and the clench of Crowley’s thighs. Settling into the sensation of the angel tasting his cock takes a while but they aren’t in any kind of hurry. Slowly, Crowley manages to pry his eyes open and look down at the picture of that sweet smiling mouth taking him in.</p><p>There is suddenly something that Crowley craves. He wants it so much that he doesn’t hold it back. He doesn’t second guess it or worry for once. Apparently all it takes is his dick in Aziraphale’s mouth to bypass his anxiety. He flexes his hand to alert the angel that he needs his attention. “I want.” he manages.</p><p>The angel’s curly head pops up and his lips are rubbed red and his face is flushed pink and he is so shockingly beautiful that it takes a moment to recover. Now he wants it even more. The vision in his head. “Your wings.” He whispers.</p><p>The salacious amused look that the angel shoots at him is enough to have his face burning. Fuck. What is happening to him?</p><p>He doesn’t have long to wander because the displacement of air and the rustle of feathers brings the tight heavy pop of wings into the room and he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed. The angel returns the sweet torturous slip of his lips down to suckle the tip of his cock. And there it is. The most pornographic image he has ever seen. His angel is all pretty and pale and round. Bent over his lap and sucking his dick down while those great white wings mantle above his back in a long arching sweep. The image is all profane and perfect and he can’t stop staring.</p><p>“Fuck me.” Crowley begs. Asking for what he needs for the second time in just minutes. He is beyond being embarrassed and spreads his legs wider. “Want.” He releases the angel’s hand from their cramping grasp and reaches to hold the back of his thigh, exposing the clenching little pucker of his hole. “Your fingers. Angel. Inside.”</p><p>The demon doesn’t have time to wonder where the slick oil on Aziraphale’s fingers comes from. He is well beyond that when the angel squeezes his cock in one hand and rubs the pad of his fingertip over his entrance.</p><p>Crowley squirms and shivers and clenches in tiny pulsing jerks before he settles into the slick steady rubbing pleasure of his angel’s fingers. “Kiss me.” he asks and is rewarded for his courage by the circling finger tapping tenderly against his hole.</p><p>Kneeling up over him, Aziraphale obliges by pressing his wet sex scented lips tenderly to the edge of Crowley’s mouth. The angel seems to have some idea and arranges them to lie facing each other on their sides. Gently he eases Crowley’s leg over his hip, resting high until Crowley is curved inward. He drapes one heavy bright wing all along the demon’s naked waist and thighs before sliding an arm around his hip and down to drag his fingertips into the oil slick heat of his ass. It's perfect. Crowley is surrounded by the angel. Cradled there. His head is pillowed on one of the angel’s arms and that teasing fingertip is edging around his hole while the angel kisses and licks and sucks his lips.</p><p>Crowley opens his eyes and watches the angel settle so tightly around him. The tapping is back and two thick fingertips are teasing and rubbing and urging the tight clench of him to flutter and open for them. He has never felt so safe and loved. So trusted and adored. His angel is touching him with sweet hungry reverence that isn’t at all reluctant or rehearsed. <em><strong>He wants me this way too</strong></em>. is all that he can think. The thought of it has his hips churning forward to rub his cock against the soft naked heat of Aziraphale’s belly.</p><p>“So good for me.” the angel murmurs. When that inspires a needy little whine in Crowley’s throat, the angel doesn’t stop there. “You are so tight and hot here.” He emphasizes what he means by wedging the tip of his finger into his entrance and curving it to tug so gently against the rim of him. The temperature inside the arch of the angel’s wings inches dramatically upward as a red hot flush spreads up Crowley’s chest.</p><p>“I’m going to open you up and put your beautiful toy inside.” The angel says against his lips and Crowley feels something give inside him. Tension winding tighter inside suddenly falls totally slack and his body flowers open for the angel. The welcoming spread of his hole swallows the angel’s finger to its first knuckle before another clenching wave breaks over him. It happens again and he is hanging open and pliable for the thrusting rub of his soft fingers.</p><p>“You think you can control your corporation well enough to hold off until I get your toy inside?” The angel says with a challenging light in his eyes.</p><p>“Angel. I have had..mmmgkkk...this body for six thousand years. I can handle it.” Crowley retorts and is silently grateful for the conversation which is helping to distract him beautifully.</p><p>“Hmmm. I am not so sure.” The angel argues and curls his fingers forward to touch the tiny rigid little indentation of his prostate as if he has a fucking map of Crowley’s body. The rocketing sizzle of pleasure has him groaning and clenching tight around the angel’s fingers to make them stop. “That is cheating!” He exclaims with offense at the injustice. Which only makes Aziraphale grin like he just won the lottery.</p><p>“Mmmm” Aziraphale kisses the edge of his chin. “You are so handsome when you are outraged.” Crowley manages to roll his eyes and also hitch his breath at the slide of a third fingertip that stretches him wider. It is also the last of their conversation for a while as the angel sets a rocking rhythm to his methodical stretching fingerfuck. One that Crowley begins to match by rolling his hips down onto the fingers as they rub and press inside. This has an added benefit of dragging his cockhead in slow digging thrusts into precum slick angel flesh. Twice, he has to stop moving and just pant and take whatever the angel will give him because the pleasure has edged too close to orgasm. Aziraphale takes some small mercy and doesn’t tease his prostate or thrust as much as he is stretching and opening.</p><p>Finally he is well past ready, shaking, and biting the angel’s shoulder before Aziraphale is satisfied that it is time for that pretty glass. There is no way he could have held out for even a minute longer. The angel was beyond thorough.</p><p>“On your back, my dear.” The angel commands as he slides away to retrieve the glass plug. Aziraphale smiles to himself while he watches the demon shuck his shirt and sprawl naked and hard in the middle of the mattress.</p><p>When Aziraphale returns, he is holding not one, but two objects. The glass plug and the cheap jelly cock ring. He silently offers the ring to Crowley with his brows raised.</p><p>The demon has blushed more today than he has in his entire six thousand years in this body. But he manages the fortitude to transform the ring into an aggressively heavy steel cockring with two hanging rings to strangle his balls and a leather strap to clamp it all together for even more constriction.<br/>“Oh my.” The angel beams. “I want to use this. What do you think?”</p><p>Crowley can only manage a silent nod and closes his eyes to handle the sensation of his angel slipping the heavy metal into place. He had softened enough from the pause in action that Aziraphale is able to fasten him into the ring with smooth graceful motions. An angel even in this moment. His pale hands are soft and touching him gently.</p><p>Crowley couldn’t possibly be prepared for what came next. The toy had been nestled in towels that were hosting hot water bottles. The glass is superheated a little bit beyond what any human could stand but well within the predilections of a certain demon. No way could an angel have guessed. Well.</p><p>Apparently that angel had been taking notes. When he had stammered out that entire list of reasons he likes the glass. He had drawn some conclusions about snake demons and warmth. Any idea that this is some passing curiosity is just gone the moment Aziraphale kneels between Crowley’s thighs and places his warm hand over his ringed cock to press him still. He holds the stinging hot toy for a second on the inside of Crowley’s thigh to measure his response. Aziraphale is more than prepared to care for Crowley. He had already set the motion of his care. The shape of his compassion is so plainly written in every careful consideration of this moment.</p><p>The demon couldn’t have known exactly how much time and attention that Aziraphale has spent on him. He couldn’t see the careful measuring flick of his eyes along every interesting tangle of his demon’s heart. Crowley had been so caught up in his own troubles for so long that he had missed it. Was blind to the fires that the angel banked for him right here.</p><p>The shooting pleasure of the scalding heat instantly pulses his cock to full attention, straining and thick inside the ring. Aziraphale rubs his fingertip over the tip of Crowley’s cock where it drools one thick pearl of precum.</p><p>Scooting closer on his knees, the angel nudges the superheated tip of the glass toy right against his stretched and slicked hole. Crowley whimpers in pleasure and rocks his hips in an obvious bid to work the toy deeper. Aziraphale mantles his wings down over them until Crowley can clutch a fistful of feathers and he holds the demon’s hips down hard and inches the glass inside. It is a tight push even with all the preparation and the demon pants and moans and bites his lips cherry red. He is a vision there on the bed all flushed and freckled and taking that toy while his silver ringed cock twitches and leaks.</p><p>“Look at you.” Marvels the angel while nudging the toy into a hot swiveling circle that bulges the edge of Crowley’s slick hole. He withdraws it slightly to watch it slip out before pushing it back again. There is a steady whining stream of cursing and begging going on that only makes the angel smile as he takes his time. There is nothing that will rush him in this steady mission to take his demon apart. Crowley’s thighs start to shake as the glass slides all the way to the thickest flare at its middle. “Almost there Crowley.” Aziraphale soothes before withdrawing the toy to drip his oiled fingers over to wet it again. The anointed fingertips trace his skin where it stretches around the toy as he pumps it back to the most extreme width of the flare. Crowley seems to have remembered at least twenty languages to swear in. His cock is raging hard against the ring and his chest is arched almost off the bed. Finally that last little centimeter is breached and the toy suddenly slips all the way home. Blazing hot fire from the tip of the toy is suddenly hard and full inside him. The angel rubs his palm over the hilt of the toy and it rolls and rubs against that place inside him. A fisted little knot of fire that is rocking inside his body and making every single muscle in his body clench down hard.</p><p>Aziraphale flicks the leather strap of the ring free and his cock is suddenly flush with heat and he is coming before his next breath. Aziraphale catches his come with glass heated hands and rubs them wet and tight over and over his cock to draw every drop from him. At some point, soft tears had finally broken free and fell down the angles of his face and into his ears. He is absolutely a mess.</p><p>Feeling about ten emotions in the space of only an hour is too much and his body is still reeling with sensation as Aziraphale gathers him close. The angel does the courtesy of a miraculous cleaning and has wrapped the demon in his wings. He made a motion to remove the plug but Crowley had managed to shake his head. He wanted to hold that inside for a while longer.</p><p>It is two hours before he stirs awake. The heavy bulk of wings still has him tucked so warm and safe that he wonders if he has ever slept with another in that way. He has never let himself wonder how winged beings sleep together. It had always been so impossible. Did he once sleep as a fledgling tucked among his siblings in this way? He doesn’t remember. Aziraphale smells so good. His skin is warm and soft and one of those thick thighs is wedged between his legs. Perfect.</p><p>“Don’t leave me.” Aziraphale whispers. The angel finds one of his hands and lifts it to his mouth to touch the back of his knuckles with his lips. “If you need to leave, It is ok. But I don’t want you to go.”</p><p>The knot that Crowley had fallen asleep with has returned to his throat and he might cry again. “I’m scared that this is all too impossible.” the demon manages to squeeze past the tightness.</p><p>“That is ok. Just let me know when you feel that way. It’s not impossible. Not us. We are --”</p><p>Crowley interrupts the tender moment by covering the angel’s mouth with his hand. “If you say ineffable I am going to kick you right out of this warm bed.”</p><p>“Ineffable” Aziraphale says the moment Crowley lifts his fingers and arches a challenging brow at the demon.</p><p>The ensuing wrestling match has no clear winner but these two impossible, no, ineffable lovers are probably still working it out. A day at a time in their little impossible cottage.</p>
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